


Matching Set

by Neigedens



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neigedens/pseuds/Neigedens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FIll from a kinkmeme prompt:</p><p>"Dirk and Jake are both kidnapped (who it is that kidnaps them doesn't really matter to me) and put into separate rooms. Their captor goes to Jake first and makes him an offer: submit to sex and he'll leave Dirk untouched. So, to protect Dirk, Jake takes him up on it. </p><p>Then, as soon as their captor is done he goes to Dirk and makes him the exact same offer."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matching Set

**Author's Note:**

> Another old kinkmeme fill, now slightly Jossed. Original thread with the prompt is [here](http://homesmut.livejournal.com/14212.html?thread=28326788#t28326788).

Dirk rolled over. There was a human above him, which was strange because after entering the Medium he had been given to understand that most other human beings had been killed in Earth's destruction by meteors. It struck Dirk as a shame that many good people had died in Earth's apocalypse and this douchebag hadn't been one of them.

"Well," said the douchebag. "I caught you. I have a matching set now."

Dirk didn't feel such a stupid remark deserved an answer. He raised an eyebrow. The douchebag's flunkies pulled him to his feet.

The douchebag went on. "I'm Smith. From Crockercorp."

"Smith," said Dirk. "That's really the fake name you're giving out? You're sure you don't want to go with something even less inspired and more ripped off from a thousand shitty spy movies?"

Smith smiled and nodded to the flunkies, who were all humans who had somehow managed to evade their fiery death, unlike millions of worthier others back on Earth. "Take him. You are Dirk Strider, right?"

"Fuck off," said Dirk. One of the flunkies put a bag over his head and they began to drag him away.

**== >**

Smith was a flunky too, not that Dirk realized it at that point. Smith was a flunky to her Imperious Condescension herself, and so only answered to her. He had a delicate mission regarding the four teenagers who had escaped Earth to the Medium, and intended to take his sweet time with it, since he had been given the prerogative by the Condesce herself. His agents were still combing the incipisphere for the two girls, but Smith was not worried about being able to find them.

As Smith opened the door to Jake's cell, Strider's voice could be heard down the hallway as he scuffled with the guards bringing him to his own cell across the hall. Smith watched Jake's face as the door slammed shut.

"Well," he said. "I suppose you heard that. You must know who I've found."

"It's a trap," said Jake. His cell contained a bare-bones sink, toilet, and bed set-up, the last of which Jake was sitting on now. "You couldn't have gotten him, couldn't have."

Smith patted Jake on the arm. "There, there. Don't beat yourself up about this, Jake."

"Fuck you."

"No, I mean it. I really do have a lot of compassion for you kids. Here you are, far from home, directionless, under this amusing illusion that the things you do will have an effect, or stop any of the Empress' or her master's plans."

Jake glared at the man. "I'm not telling you anything. Neither will he. None of us will. None of us will talk."

He shook his head and laughed. "Jake, you're still talking like some chucklehead in a movie. You realize that, don't you?"

Jake didn't answer.

"You don't realize. There's nothing you can _say_ at this point. I know everything. I have always known it. Don't you see?"

"Then..." Jake stuttered. "Look, just cut this bullcrap. What do you want?"

Smith smiled. "Well, that's an intriguing question, Jake. What do _I_ want? Perhaps it would be more useful to describe what my employer wants--you know her as the batterwitch, I suppose. What _she_ wants is simple: the four of you, out of her hair. Now, she has a _lot_ of hair so this is indeed an undertaking, one that she has entrusted to me, one of her closer subordinates."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm real impressed."

"But what _I_ want is a different matter. I want you and your friends to stop causing me so much trouble. Now, of course, the easiest way would be for me to kill you. Right now."

That shut him up pretty well. Jake just watched him.

"Or kill your friend. Would you like me to kill your friend, Jake? Right in front of your eyes?"

Jake only stared at him, horrorstruck.

"Answer me, Jake."

"No," said Jake in a much smaller voice.

Smith smiled. "Of course, I don't have to. My employer has left that subject entirely within my purview. What is also entirely within my purview is this: making sure you understand the situation. Do you know what the situation is, Jake?"

Jake shook his head. It was nice to see people clam up once he started putting the heat on them. Especially the punk kid-types.

"The situation is, there is jackshit you can tell me at this point to change my mind about what I'm going to do." Smith leaned forward. "Do you understand me?"

Jake nodded.

"Good. That's all I need you to acknowledge, Jake. I have all the power in this situation."

The kid looked sick. 

"So I suppose it's not surprising to you," Smith went on, "that I need you to do exactly what I tell you to do, exactly when I tell you."

"Do what?"

"That's not the issue here, Jake," said Smith. "The issue here is that if you don't fucking do it, I'll drag Mr. Strider in here and he can help convince you." He paused. "I'm guessing I don't have to spell this out for you anymore, do I?"

It was looking promising; the kid was obviously keeping an inexpert hold on his panic. "What do you--I don't--"

"That's all right, kid," said Smith. "I get it. You're confused. What does this douchebag want, right?" Jake stared at him full in the face for what seemed like the first time; he looked lost. "Good question. My first request--ha, yeah, I know, but we'll call it a request for now-- is that you take off your clothes." 

Jake shook his head. "This isn't--you can't be--"

Smith walked forward and ruffled Jake's hair. "I'm pretty fucking serious, kid. Do it, or I'm gonna get mad."

So they switched places; Jake stood up and slowly began removing all his clothes and Smith sat on the bed, lit a cigarette, and watched him. He was a good-looking kid; tall, lanky, and obviously just filling out into his broad shoulders and long legs. He had stark tan lines where his T-shirt and his shorts usually fell, but there was no denying it; kind of a handsome fucking kid. What did it matter?

"Shoes too," said Smith. "And your undies. Jesus, do I have to make a diagram for you, Jake?" The kid wasn't looking at him anymore, obviously. He was standing there, tense and embarrassed, looking at some point off in the middle distance. "That was good, Jake. Now hold still." Smith stood up and walked around him. He ran a hand from Jake's hip up his side, just to feel the kid shiver. "Looks pretty normal," said Smith. "I always wondered if you ectobiological freaks had some sort of mutation. Some kind of weird triple dick or something." He had run his free hand over the kid's ass now, and he could feel him trembling under his hand. "You look pretty normal, though. That's good." He gave the kid a gentle pat on the ass. "Makes this a lot easier. Get on the bed."

Jake finally looked at him. "What?"

"Jake. I don't want to have to do this every time I give you a fucking order. Get. On. The bed." Jake did so; he sat on the bed with his knees pressed together and his hands on his thighs, tense and ready to spring. Smith finished smoking his cigarette and watched him. He tossed the butt in the toilet and finally spoke. "Shit, kid. You're scared as hell, aren't you?" 

The kid was cowed, but not that cowed; he didn't answer or even look at Smith. 

"It's OK. You don't have to answer. How about this: I won't fuck you...if you do a good job." Jake looked up with a question in his eyes, a question that was unfortunately answered when Smith came forward with his hand on his fly.

"No," he said. "No, I can't. Please--"

"Jake." He started stroking the kid's forehead and face even as his words got harder. "Jake, it won't _kill_ you. If you do everything I ask, do a real nice job...then I'll go. I'll leave you alone for the night, and I'll leave your friend alone too. How's that sound?"

He could _feel_ Jake's shudder, and see it in his eyes. Still, he did it; he opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around Smith's cock. Though he had no enthusiasm or even really any idea what he was doing, a blowjob was a blowjob. "Fuck, yes," said Smith. "That's good. It's pretty hard to fuck this up, Jake. Just use your tongue. No, not so much teeth, you dumbshit. _Jesus_." 

The kid was panicking; Smith could hear the air rushing in and out of his nose and could see his eyes welling up, so he grabbed the kid's hair and started thrusting as much as he could into the kid's throat. That made the hyperventilating even worse, but at a certain point Smith just stopped caring.

"Swallow it, Jake, no--oh, goddammit." The kid leaned over and was sick all over the floor. "Wow, kid, that was amazingly shitty."

" _Fuck_ you," said Jake. His eyes were closed and he was shaking.

"No, I mean it. Looks like if you want me to lay off I'm gonna need something else from you."

"Can you just--give me a minute."

Smith only laughed, but he lit a cigarette and let the kid shamble over to the sink to wash his mouth out. Jake slipped his glasses off and splashed water on his face.

"Get over here and lay down on your stomach," said Smith, and Jake just did it. After a certain point he lost all his fight; they all did. Smith ran his hand over Jake's ass again, and Jake let him without complaint. Jake stayed perfectly still as Smith smoked another cigarette and waited.

"Are you playing statues, Jake?" he asked with a laugh as he flicked the second cigarette away. Jake screamed upon being penetrated, but buried his face in the pillow.

It didn't last long; after the blowjob Smith didn't have a lot of lasting power, and listening to Jake's quiet screams into the pillow became less novel after awhile. When he was spent once more he collapsed and listened to the kid's shuddering breaths for another couple seconds before regaining animation.

"Well, Jake," he said, putting his briefs and slacks back on. "I'm off to interview your old pal Dirk. We'll see how he reacts to the deal. It'll be interesting to see how you two differ in your approach."

That jolted him alert. "What--"

"Evening, Mr. English," said Smith. He pressed the button in his coat pocket that remotely shut off the lights and slammed the door behind him.

**== >**

The douchebags finally pulled the bag off of his head and promptly left him to his own devices in his cell, which was a joke. Like an old school solitary cell with a very basic toilet-sink-bed set up. What the fuck did they think this was? Who the fuck did they think they were dealing with here?

A variety of unpleasant options and scenarios were running through Dirk's mind. He was pacing; an outsider observing him (which was actually the case, Dirk rightly figured) might have thought that he was panicking, but he was not. He was thinking very quickly and very hectically, but hopefully all the bullshit scenarios running through his mind would actually result in figuring out how to get the fuck out of here.

Smith, the douchebag who had caught him, had referred to having two captives. Dirk wondered who the other person here with him was; he had just been speaking to Jane on Pesterchum when the douchebags had sprung on him so he knew it was not possible that she was here with him. He somehow thought that no force known by the batterwitch or anyone else could manage to catch, much less take down Roxy, so that left Jake, which was the most likely option, sadly. That would explain Smith's remark about having a matching set. Two of the boys from the Sburb session down; two girls to go.

This was unfortunate, for many reasons. Dirk had always considered that Jake was the one amongst his friends most likely to break under harsh questioning and torture. (This was the sort of thing he thought about.)

Years ago he had gotten into a discussion with Roxy on this very subject. She (predictably) had not taken it very seriously.

TG: lmao dirk  
TG: cant believe that you have thought about which one of us will cyr uncle first when under extreme duress/TORCHA!!!  
TT: What can I say? It's a dangerous world out there, Lalonde.  
TT: Helps to have your bases covered so you can understand how to prepare when the worst is coming.  
TG: dude you know who else did that  
TG: evil spock from original series star trek  
TG: he supah-logically concluded who would break first under...TORCHA!!!!!@@!  
TG: fuck that was a great episode we are in the mirror universe and u r our evil spock  
TG: lol im so shocked by this revelation  
TT: I have to say I'm shocked that you unironically like that 60's cornball schlock.  
TG: omg shut the actual fuck up old school star trek is amazznng  
TG: *amazning  
TG: *AMAZING BITCHES >:(

The subject had ended in an impasse, but it was encouraging to think of, at least. For all Roxy's erratic behavior and for all Jane's wet blanket-isms, he did have a lot of faith in their ability to rescue him and Jake. Jane had an inside connection, being the former putative heiress of the Baroness, Roxy had spent most of her young adult life thinking of ways to foil the Batterwitch, and together they were a crack half-drunken team.

He thought he and Jake were probably on some kind of spacecraft; rumors were that the Batterwitch had a huge, fearsome battleship that no human being had ever left alive. He had always regarded the story with a bit of skepticism, but with every passing moment he was changing his tune. He could hear strange mechanical noises coming from within the walls, but the cell itself was disconcertingly...organic. The walls were covered in deep purple vein-like ropes. The bed and toilet and the rest looked like set-pieces, out of place and strange in the decor, which was frankly alien.

He kept pacing. He wondered when they would decide he'd been sequestered long enough. This was an amateur tactic, keeping him secluded for hours. They wanted to disconcert him, to freak him out, which was impossible. He was Dirk Strider, and he had this shit on fucking lockdown.

(Except he totally didn't and a mostly foreign but still overbearing part of his mind was screaming at him to _do something right the fuck now_ , to make an escape or get ready to beat the shit out of the next douchebag who entered the cell. This was a good idea, and his more rational conscious brain tried to follow the apeshit part of his brain's advice and leave the rest of the apeshit-ness alone.)

Finally, after what felt like hours, the door opened. It was Smith again. Of course it was.

He smirked. "Well, Mr. Strider. I've just been speaking to your friend. Mr. English." He got no reaction; Dirk had miraculously retained his glasses in the scuffle with the douchebags, which was just fine. Smith was not perturbed by the non-reaction. "What a funny kid. Nice guy. You guys been friends a long time?" 

Dirk stared at him. "I'm sorry. Are you trying to chat me up on my best fucking friend that you've kidnapped?"

Smith grinned. "You're his best friend? Aw, that's sweet. He didn't say that, but I believe it."

"This is stupid. State your business."

Smith grinned. "Kinda pushy, huh? This is my business. I'm getting a feel for you and English."

"Gross. We're 15. Keep that shit to yourself, pedo."

Smith positively fucking _beamed_ at that. "I didn't even think of that. Puts a whole different spin on the number I just did on English, don't it?" He paused, waiting for Dirk to rise to the bait. "Fucking him through the bedspread, being the number in this case."

The part of Dirk's mind currently going apeshit bananas at everything nearly made him cry out, but his reason took over before he could do that. "Bullshit."

"What is?"

"I'm calling bullshit on that. On you..." He trailed off. "You're playing mind games on me, and it's not going to fucking work. Just tell me what you want from us."

Smith grinned. "Is it that hard to believe?" Dirk only shook his head in response. "Come on. He's a good-looking kid, and it gets boring around here, being surrounded by fucking chessmen and up to your ass in lizards. Maybe I did take advantage of the situation. You don't know. Maybe you're just a little jealous of me."

Dirk laughed, a sickening horrible laugh. "Yeah, really jealous. I always wanted to be a badass pedo rapist, just like you."

"Maybe it wasn't rape. Maybe he gave into it willingly."

"Just shut up."

Smith grinned. "You know, my intel suggests that you and all your little girlfriends are constantly wetting your panties over him, maybe you really _are_ jealous."

"I said shut up," said Dirk, and, yeah, he was willing to admit that he did lose his cool just a bit when he shouted that, and when he lunged at Smith. It was an action taken in anger and impulse, so it was surprising but probably fitting that Smith easily evaded his fist and grabbed Dirk around the wrist.

"Shit, kid," said Smith, looking so bemused Dirk could have easily killed him. "Chill the fuck out." He casually threw Dirk away from him. Dirk crashed into the wall and stayed where he was, watching the other man. "You know, intel also suggested that you like to think of yourself as some kind of puppetmaster Dr. Caligari-type. You really gonna let me pull your strings like that? I expected better of you, kid. Of course I didn't fucking touch Jake, I'm just pulling your chain. I didn't think it would be so easy to get you riled up."

Dirk stood up straight; all of his mind was consumed with rage, but it was not the white-hot kind from earlier. It was the kind he could think through, at least. He clenched his fists but managed to say with relative calm, "Right. So that's why you brought me here, so you could play elementary mind games with me so I would try and slug you. You know, I'm going back with what I said earlier. You've got some fucked-up kinks, dude. Who the hell are you?"

Smith only chuckled. "I was Crockercorp's number one human liaison to Earth back when Earth wasn't a smoldering husk of meteors. And now I am fifty percent finished with my quest to get rid of you meddlin' kids."

"Well, good job. Once you max out your 'be a creep and kidnap a group of teenagers' meter your Kiddie Pool of Sexual Harassing Bullshit will overfloweth and you will ascend to the next rung in your echeladder: BATTERWITCH FELLATING SEX OFFENDER EXTRAORDINAIRE."

Smith grinned. "Funny, kid. Really funny. But I'm not the one up shit creek here, am I? No, that's you. So you can stand there and flap your trap all you want until I get bored, and I can go and visit with Jake again." There was a brief, horrible pause. "Unless, of course, you found a reason to keep me here."

Dirk stared. "You're honestly doing this? The creepy sex predator bit? That's really what you're going to do with us? Sweet fucking Jesus."

For the first time Smith's face took on a harder aspect, and when he spoke it was far more venomously than Dirk had ever heard him sound before. "Maybe you're right, Dirk. Maybe I'm sick of your fucking lip and I'll go see how Jake's doing. He's a bit more compliant than you are, isn't he? If I told him that I had his best bro in the next cell over, and that I was about ready to beat his face in just to get him to shut the fuck up, then I think Jake would probably do whatever I asked him to do just because of the power of friendship. Isn't that the sweetest fucking thing you ever heard, Dirk?"

There was a very tense pause. The going-apeshit part of his mind (and he could be honest with himself now, that part was occupying about ninety percent of his awareness right now) was rebelling against it, but he could see what all of this was leading to pretty clearly. He couldn't trust himself to speak, which was apparently just fine for this douchebag. Smith's face took on that veneer of sneering good humor once more as he stepped towards Dirk and grabbed his wrists. Before Dirk could jerk away Smith had socked him in the solar plexus. Dirk had had the air knocked out of him before, but this was different. As he slumped forward Smith socked him on the jaw and sent him to the floor.

"That's good," said Smith, pressing Dirk's face onto the floor with his foot when Dirk tried to jerk back to his feet. His glasses finally lost their long battle with gravity and went skittering to the floor. "Put up a little bit of a fight. I like that."

 _Jesus Christ_ , thought Dirk, and he reflected again on the probability of Jane gutsy gumshoeing this shit and saving his sorry ass. His estimates were not as optimistic as they had been just a few minutes ago.

**== >**

Jane had suspected foul play from the beginning. It hadn't been the first time Dirk had abruptly cut out during a pesterlog, but usually when that happened he would log back on to tell her which robot had sneak-attacked him and how many pieces said robot was now in. His continued silence struck her as out of character and foreboding, so she contacted his fellow Derse dreamer.

\--gutsyGumshoe [GG] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]\--

GG: Ro-Lal!  
TG: sup  
GG: Have you talked to Dirk lately?  
TG: nope why  
GG: Shoot. :/  
TG: does he owe you money or something  
GG: No, I am completely flush with booncash right now, thank you very much!  
GG: It's just I was pestering him a few hours ago when he suddenly disconnected and I haven't heard from him since.  
TG: :S  
GG: This is very troubling to me!  
GG: I hope something didn't happen to him.  
TG: this is extra troubling to me too bcuz i was about to ask you the same thing only re: jake  
GG: What!  
TG: yah the same thing happened a bit ago?  
TG: i mean now that im thinking about it its super odd when you consider that usually when jake suddenly disconnects while talking to you because he got sniped by the brobot or something  
TG: he will almost immediately log back in to get all apologetically gentleman-like on your ass for leaving you hanging like that, its adorbs  
GG: Ha ha, yeah. :B  
GG: Perhaps he and Dirk are in cahoots! Perhaps this is all an elaborate prank.  
TG: but janey, WOULD THEY DARE  
GG: ?  
TG: would they dare to prank THE PRANKIGN MISTRESS??????  
GG: :B  
TG: well boviously they r in on something together  
TG: throwing a dumb surprise party or something  
GG: Dear god, can you imagine what that would be like?  
TG: hahahahahah  
GG: We'd be up to our necks in puppet ass and scantily-clad blue women.  
TG: ahahahaha why am i not at this party RIGHT NOW  
GG: :B  
GG: But seriously, I am pretty worried about them.  
TG: yeah me too  
TG: i think what i will do is go to sleep and see what derse dirk is getting up to since that guy should at least know where the fuck regular dirk is  
TG: i mean if you are so cagey and mysterious that even your derse-dreaming lucid-waking alter ego doesnt know where the fuck you are then i think it's about time we sat down and had a talk with mr. strider  
TG: like dude you are just TOO MYSTERIOUS  
GG: :B  
GG: That's a good idea, though! I'll talk to UU too. What's the point of having an omniscient alien friend if she can't even spoil your good bros' surprise parties or whatever it is they're up to?  
TG: lol this is what im talkin about

Both of these lines of inquiry were for nothing, however. UU was uncharacteristically unresponsive, and Dirk was nowhere to be found on Derse.

TG: what the hell is this  
TG: doesnt he know that disappearing off the face of the dream planet and making everyone worry is MY thing  
GG: :( There's no sign of Jake either that I can tell.  
GG: This is *really* starting to worry me, Ro-Lal.  
TG: yeah really  
TG: you know what i think this calls for janey?  
GG: What?  
TG: some motheringfcuking...  
TG: ...  
TG: .........  
GG: Oh god, not the dramatic pause again  
TG: (shut up dont act like you dont love it ;)  
TG: ..................  
TG: ................................ MOTHERUFKCING DETECTIVE WORK  
TG: i hope ur excited  
GG: I'm somewhat excited but mostly worried!  
GG: The fact that they're both incommunicado makes me think that it can't just be an accident! And even if it was just a prank or something, I don't think they would make both of us worry like this.  
TG: yeah that shit aint funny bro  
TG: it is v. troubling  
TG: i suspect batterwitch shenanigininas  
GG: You always say that!  
TG: WELL ARENT I ALWAYS RIGHT  
GG: Yes, probably. In this case.   
TG: ha whatever janey  
GG: *ROLLS EYES*

Despite this, Jane thought they were a pretty good team, her and Roxy. She was Hercule Poirot, and Roxy was her devil-may-care, frequently inebriated Captain Hastings. Jane made her way to Dirk's planet and interviewed the consorts that had flocked to the remains of Dirk's apartment building, a group of confused and mostly double-talking chameleons who refused to give any straight answers to anything.

GG: This is hopeless.  
GG: Do you think Hercule Poirot ever had to deal with these dumbass chameleons?  
GG: No. No, he did not.  
TG: um bad news janey  
GG: Uh oh.  
TG: i mean i know that you have been working really hard on those chameleons and all and i hope you know that i would be the last to denigrate all that hard work  
GG: Roxy, what the hell?  
GG: Out with it.  
TG: :S  
TG: jane, ive seen it  
GG: Seen what?  
TG: where she must be keeping them  
TG: her battleship  
TG: its chilling out in the void just beyond derse's atmosphere  
TG: jane it's within the horrible abyss that is the furthest ring  
GG: Oh nooooo.  
TG: yeah. :( i am trying to refrain from being overdramatic about this but there it is  
TG: escsonced in a veil of impenetrable darkness and bad fucking dreams  
TG: *esconcsed whatever pretend i even know how to fcking spell that  
GG: Well, then I guess this has just switched genres.  
TG: wha?  
GG: This is no longer a detective story, Roxy.  
GG: This is now a heist movie. Do you think we're going to let that fucking witch get away with kidnapping our Prince and our Page?  
TG: ...  
TG: janey i dont say this enough  
TG: but you are a sexy, sexy woman and i lvoe you <3  
GG: :B

**== >**

The ground was oddly squishy, Dirk noticed as Smith pressed his face into it. Which was a great thing to be thinking of at the moment, he knew. Instead of using his unfathomable intellect to come up with an escape plan or overcoming his attacker with his dizzying martial prowess, he was going to feel up the floor with his face and decide whether the material was supple yet foamy enough to potentially be used in smuppet-production. Brilliant fucking kid, right here.

It was kind of all bullshit anyway. Once he let Smith get him on the floor he was done for and he should have realized it, but he couldn't. He became squirmy and nigh-impossible to pin down. Smith didn't seem to mind; he still had that fucking smirk on his face, anyway. He liked shooting fish in a barrel, apparently, but he liked it when the fish fought back enough to make it interesting.

"Come on, Dirk," he said, wheedling. "What's the point of all this?"

"You're right." Smith tried to get him in a hold, but he slipped out of it. This victory was probably completely useless in the long run, but it animated him to speak. "Shit, Mr. Smith, let me suck your cock. Let me give you some sugar, please, daddy." He was kicking and elbowing without much finesse, but with each blow he landed he felt a little bit better, even if both the verbal and physical attacks just bounced off the other guy.

"All I want is for you to go along with this, Dirk," said Smith. "You only have to go along with it enough so I don't kill you." He smiled again, like he was saying something clever. "Remember how I might kill you? That didn't stop being a thing that might happen, you know."

"That very topic has actually been at the forefront of my mind lately, thanks for the reminder, fuckstain," said Dirk as he kicked out and managed to catch Smith by surprise, right across the face with the instep of his sneaker. It was a satisfying thing to do in and of itself, plus it had the added bonus of making Smith positively livid. The smirk was gone, at the very least.

"You little fucker," said Smith, and lunged at him. Dirk had backed against the wall too much; when Smith grabbed him by the throat there was nowhere else to go. 

Dirk had been socked across the face plenty of times before. Something about it set off the rage waves like no other kind of blow could, so it really wasn't a surprise that Smith stood up and really started beating the shit out of him. Dirk wouldn't have said it had all been part of his plan because catching Smith in the face had been a fluke more than anything, and even the shittiest of his plans would never involve him getting viciously beaten, but at the same time this was better than some of the alternatives. Or at least it was, until he didn't twist away in time and Smith kicked him square in the crotch.

Like any truaficionado of _Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff: the Moive_ , Dirk considered himself something of a connoisseur of jokes about getting kicked in the balls. He had written many touching and delicate deconstructions of their underlying symbolism in his bro's movies and in pop culture in general, and the essays were all the more effective because Dirk knew what the average movie-going schlub laughing at Hans Moleman did not: there is in fact nothing less funny than getting kicked in the balls when they are balls that belong to you. Anyone who wrestles with robots know this. 

Taking a blow to the face reminds you where you are, reminds you that you are alive and kicking and pissed as hell. Getting kicked in the balls is the exact opposite of that. For a few seconds Dirk's entire world whited out and in those precious seconds he pretty much knew he was fucking done for. He must have screamed loud enough because Smith had stopped kicking him (bad) and was wearing that smirk again (worse.) 

Before Dirk could react Smith had grabbed his arms.

"Come on," he said. "Put 'em up. There you go." He was pulling off Dirk's shirt and speaking softly like he was calming a wild horse, which was a fucking awful metaphor and Dirk wondered why his mind was clinging to the old pony motif at a crucial juncture like this. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

But it hurt too much to twist away anymore, and he couldn't think of anything to say to make Smith angry instead of horny. He wasn't sure he _wanted_ to say anything because Smith tying his arms together and dragging him across the floor represented pretty much a complete collapse of diplomatic ties. Such as they had been.

Maybe he had taken a blow to the head without realizing it, or losing his glasses had fucked him up in ways he hadn't considered, but the light in the room was suddenly so bright and before he even realized it he was on the bed and his hands were tied to the cold metal of the headboard. It wasn't until he felt the grip on his foot that he even realized Smith was still talking to him.

"Funny," said Smith, untying the laces of Dirk's sneakers almost tenderly for a guy who had been attempting to kick the shit out of him just a minute ago. "You're a funny kid, Dirk. I realize that now."

Dirk blinked furiously. Part of him wasn't even sure that Smith was actually there. He felt groggy suddenly, like he'd just woken up or had been drugged. He blinked at the ceiling.

"You still there?" Smith asked him. "You still with me, bro?" When Dirk didn't answer he grabbed him by the chin. "Hey. Look at me."

"What?" Smith was taking off his shoes for him. What the hell? "Is this the part where you take my socks and go masturbate in the bathroom with them?"

"There we are," said Smith. "I thought maybe I'd broken your brain or something."

"My brain being broken is something like its normal operating state," said Dirk, and sweet shit, what was he _saying_? He had completely lost his grip on the situation; he was floating and barely even conscious as Smith leaned forward to kiss him. It was the first time Dirk had kissed anything that wasn't made of plush. This first flesh-and-blood kiss would have been a let down even under the ideal circumstances; Smith's lips were slippery and he smelled like cigarette smoke. Dirk tried to close his mouth, but he couldn't. Smith was pressing down on his whole body. He could feel Smith's knee on top of his crotch and couldn't move, couldn't breathe...

He hated to admit to himself, but he would have preferred to listen to more smirking bullshit. He would have preferred getting socked in the gut a few more times. He would have preferred to be back in that shithole apartment in Houston. He could have been anywhere but here.

"That's good, " said Smith finally. "You're good at that, Dirk. Better than Jake was."

"Stop it," said Dirk. "Just do what you want. Just shut up."

"You don't want to hear about your buddy Jake?" His teeth were on Dirk's neck. "I thought you had a thing for him." He bit down hard on the skin between his neck and shoulder. Dirk trembled and gasped and just kept from screaming. "Yeah, that's what I figured. You seemed kind of sensitive about it earlier." Dirk closed his eyes. He couldn't look at the awful purple walls anymore, at the piercing overhead light and Smith's head moving down his body. Smith went on. "I don't blame you, I guess. I mean, you wouldn't believe what happened when I went in there with him. He just rolled over when I told him to. Like a dog. Open your eyes, Dirk." When he didn't, Smith grabbed him by hair and yanked. "It was kind of pathetic, Dirk."

"I'm sure you didn't let that stop you," he said. Smith was pressing down on his chest; his every breath was shaky and labored.

Smith chuckled. "I suppose it didn't, Dirk. I don't suppose much would."

"I figured." With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realized that a part of him must have known that this whole time, but he'd still uselessly flailed and let himself get beaten as hell anyway. And Jake...

It didn't really bear thinking about. So of course that was all he could think of as Smith touched him and rubbed his dick through his jeans. All he could think of was Jake alone and scared, except no, that wasn't true. Dirk also could vividly see himself impaling Smith on his sword right through the chest, cutting off his head, throwing him out into the Furthest Ring to let the Eldritch Ones molest him for all eternity. He could see it all and it all made him even angrier. It was all useless fantasy.

Smith must have seen the realization and anger in his eyes, or maybe he was just getting hard and seeing Dirk jerk around in discomfort was making it all the better; Dirk didn't really give two shits at this point. "You're a smart kid, Dirk," he said. His head was by Dirk's fly now. He unbuttoned it slowly and still spoke. "Not that I guess it turned out mattering much, did it?"

Dirk sighed. No, it certainly had not.

 

**== >**

Jake was sitting in the dark. He had considered feeling along the walls for something to make the lights turn on, then changed his mind because the walls were unpleasantly flesh-like and felt damp and mossy to the touch. Just feeling them would have made him shudder under normal circumstances, and now...

He was pretty much completely flipping the fuck out, which was only natural but still made all the worse by the cell's utter darkness, and its stillness, and the fact that the sensory deprivation was making him replay over and over what had happened. It kept recurring in his mind's eye for lack of anything else to look at, like a movie so incredibly shitty even he couldn't stomach it.

At first it hadn't actually been so bad; with the utter darkness and quiet in the cell everything felt unreal, like a dream. He had groped around in the dark looking for his clothes, carefully avoiding where he had had been sick, washing himself up, and getting dressed again. All of this took a long time, but even after he had finished hours seemed to drag on. He couldn't even pace, couldn't think, couldn't breathe; the air in the cell was close and damp.

All in all, then, it was hardly surprising that he thought he was losing it when the window showed up. One second he had been sitting on the floor in a trance and the next he was staring at a window with three lit-up panes. He blinked; he had seen one of these before among some of his grandma's things, but the fact that it was _here_ of all places rendered it totally unfamiliar. He crawled towards it and tried to look through it, but he saw nothing but bright white light. Enough had happened already that day that he would have thought nothing could shock him, but then he looked up and saw neon-bright text suddenly emblazoned on the wall.

**jake**

He was so surprised he jumped back and banged his head on the sink. When he opened his eyes again more text was appearing, slowly, letter by letter.

**jake dcuk**

***duck**

He didn't have to be told twice. He leaped to the other side of the bed and put his head under his arms just in time to hear a loud crash. The cell was suddenly flooded with light streaming from the busted window as Roxy picked herself up from the floor.

"Jesus, I am so glad that worked," she said.

"You're amazing," said Jake, leaping over the bed almost without touching it and grabbing her around the middle. 

"Yeah, I know." She hugged him back. "You're all right?"

"I've...um." He couldn't speak all of a sudden. It was like there was a physical blockage in his throat and he could only stare at her and ask the most inane question possible. "Are you wearing pajamas?" 

"I am modeling some stylish late-season Dersite lounging jammies, yes. Jesus, Jake, what kind of question is that?" 

"Sorry," he said. "It's just--"

"No worries, dude." She wasn't looking at him now. Instead she was surveying the heavy metal door to the cell, sizing it up. "Rescuing people is something I can do in my sleep. Hopefully. Jesus, this door is huge. This is like a goddamn bomb shelter."

"Can't we leave through the window?"

"No, that's a one-way thing. Damn it."

"Roxy, Dirk's here, too," said Jake quickly. He felt like an idiot and an awful friend for forgetting about him for even a second. "I didn't see him but I heard him earlier. We have to--"

"Don't worry about Dirk," said Roxy. "Jane's got that end covered. This is kind of a three pronged escape plan. The first prong being me finding you, the second prong being her finding Dirk, and the third prong being all four of us getting out of here without getting shanked by batterwitch thugs."

"That's a brilliant plan," said Jake. "For the record, I'm kind of worried about all of us here."

"Yeah, I know." She squeezed his arm briefly. "Now stand aside while I blow this shit to pieces."

**== >**

He had always imagined this was what it was like for Playboy bunnies who married ninety year-old oil tycoons; let him get on top of you and do what he wants, then just hold onto the headboard and wait for the check to clear. Except in this case his cash prize would be not dying after all was said and done. The sweetest reward of all. Sure it was. 

One of the things he was studiously not thinking about-- and oh, there were so many things he was not thinking about he was practically not drowning in them-- was how this was his first time. Despite all the anatomically incorrect furry porn, he had always been a realist at heart, so while for his first time he may not have pictured something amazing, he had always pictured something...

 _Consensual_ , was the word he was looking for, but he studiously wasn't thinking about it, which was why the thought kept pinching at him every couple of seconds, just like Smith kept pinching at him to get him to pay attention to what Smith was doing. He was pulling Dirk's pants down his legs.

"Hey, kid," said Smith, snapping the elastic band of Dirk's brief to catch his attention. "Look at me. Stay with me. We're doing this, together. This isn't just me doing this to you, this is us doing this together." He pulled the underwear down Dirk's legs and threw it aside.

"Just keep telling yourself tha--" The rest of his words were swallowed in a gasp. Smith had thrust two very cold fingers into him. He pushed them in as deep as they would go and left them there, raising Dirk's hips fully off the mattress as he did so.

"Now," said Smith to Dirk, who was staying still as he could and trying not to let all of his weight fall onto Smith's fingers inside him. "That's all right, Dirk." He twitched the ends of his fingers and Dirk trembled a little bit trying to keep from losing his balance. "You don't like this, Dirk. I know you don't. I'm just illustrating a point. You know, I didn't use lube with Jake. Didn't even think of it, in the heat of the moment. I can use it with you, though. If you want me to. Do you, Dirk?" 

Dirk closed his eyes and did not speak, so Smith made a quick stabbing motion with his fingers. "Oh, my mistake. Do you like this? Do you want me to go at this dry the whole time? Because I'd love to make you happy. Tell me how much you like it, Dirk."

Smith was stretching him, was tearing him and this wasn't even going to be the worst of it. Dirk shuddered but managed to say clearly enough, "The lube. Use the lube," and Smith withdrew his fingers.

Roxy often accused him often of over-cerebralizing. He didn't exactly agree with her, but it was true that he lived in his head sometimes. He certainly was now. He felt untethered from himself, relatively insensible of what Smith was doing to him. He didn't even realize there were tears in his eyes. Suddenly Smith was holding Dirk's face and gently wiping away the wetness with the pad of his thumb, which as a gesture was revoltingly intimate, somehow even more revolting than Smith's other hand rubbing the lube into his ass, than Smith unzipping his own fly and finally fucking him.

"Come on, Dirk," whispered Smith almost directly into Dirk's ear. Each word echoed unpleasantly in Dirk's head, made him shudder from the air rushing down his ear canal. "Don't just lay there. If I wanted to fuck someone who just laid there and took it I'd go do Jake again, wouldn't I?"

His arms were aching, each breath caused him pain because there was a tightness in his chest that he couldn't get rid of, but it couldn't last forever. It didn't, though it might as well have for how it felt, but Dirk somehow knew it was over, finally, when he heard the beeping noise.

At first he thought it was some kind of symbolic noise his subconscious was producing, like _stick a fork in this kid, he is_ done, but in fact the beeping noise was real and coming from Smith's discarded pants, recalling him to duty.

"Perfect timing," said Smith, still panting a bit. Smith pulled out and Dirk couldn't supress the shudder. He closed his eyes but he could finally breathe again as Smith got off of him. He heard Smith moving around as he got dressed again. "I'll be going, then. See ya, Dirk."

"Wait," he said before Smith could reach the door. "Untie me."

Smith straightened his tie and grinned at Dirk from the door. "You asking or telling?"

"Right. Untie me, please, oh great master, I beg you."

Smith walked over but he only ruffled Dirk's hair like some disgusting kind of father figure. "I'll be back in a little bit. Don't worry, kid. I could see how much you liked it. Once I talked you into it."

"You son of a _bitch_ ," said Dirk, surprising himself and Smith too when he kicked out. He completely missed Smith, of course, it was a useless fucking angle, and the man left the cell laughing.

So that was that. Dirk could sit up, sort of, and take the weight off his arms. Seeing the sink and the toilet so close but out of reach was maddening, so he put his forehead against the cold metal of the headboard. 

He'd just had the idea of trying to undo the ropes with his teeth when he heard the first explosion, then the second one. A good sign, despite this mother of all compromising positions he was in.

The door busted open and Jane stood there, blinking and looking impossibly badass for someone defensively wielding a fucking spoon.

"Oh my god," she said.

"Is anyone following you?" he asked instantly as she ran into the room.

"Maybe. A couple of chess guys are giving me back-up, they should hold most of them off."

"Good, that means we have like two minutes before all the chess guys get their asses shanked."

"And I--oh my god, Dirk." She was trying to untie him, but her hands were shaking every time she looked at him. "What's--are you--"

"I'm fine," he said, in that contrarian tone of voice that let the whole world know just how un-fucking fine you were. "I don't want to talk about it, OK? Tell me how you're doing."

" _Me?_ " As soon as she finished untying him she went to grab his clothes from the floor. He had to admit, however frazzled she looked, Jane was good in a crisis. "What kind of ridiculous question is that? _I'm_ fine. But, um. I think I just killed a guy? Out there in the corridor. Oh my god."

"Good." He pulled his shirt over his head. "How did you manage to kill anyone wielding a giant spoon?"

She had turned away and was watching the door while he put his clothes on, but she held up her weapon and flipped the switch to show him. "It's a poking solution, too. Um."

"You seem to be kind of freaking the fuck out," he said, standing up and retrieving his glasses from the floor. "Not necessary. Just one thing: this guy you killed..."

"He was...a human? Dark hair, receding hairline, in a suit."

Dirk nodded. "Undoubtedly his reflexes were dulled by his unsavory interrogation methods."

"What?"

"Never mind. Where are Jake and Roxy?"

Jake and Roxy were supposed to be waiting for them a few decks up, where deploying a fenestrated plane would be more advisable than it would be here down below decks. "She and I have set up a rendezvous point. She better be there. My god, Dirk, if she's not at the rendezvous spot I will _kill_ her. I will feed her her own brain with my giant spoon. So help me ironic horse gods."

"How did she get in here, if she didn't come in with you?"

"Another window, which is how we're getting out. It's weird, but see, we were able to find out where you were being held in the schematics that I found of this ship, but for some reason that was very technical that I didn't understand, Roxy could only make one window to get into this place, so I decided that after she broke into Jake's cell I would come and get you, with a full-frontal attack, I guess. I don't know. Please feel free to point out any glaring strategy errors I've made, I realize that this tactical gobbledygook is your turf."

"I think you're underselling your turf here, Crocker," he said as they ran up the empty stairs. "Your turf apparently includes killing guys with your poking solution. You are fucking stellar at that. Stick a fork in him, that douchebag was fucking _done_."

She laughed a nervous, crazed laugh and gave him a look that suggested she knew not to ask who the dead man had been.

**== >**

He felt so elated, like his feet weren't even touching the ground, like he could pick up Jane and carry her to the arbitrary rendezvous point she and Roxy had decided on. (He was in no condition to critique their tactical strategy, and yet here he was.)

He was ecstatic with joy. It was just an adrenaline rush, he knew, and it meant that it would be all the worse when everything finally hit him and he crashed. He could feel it coming already, every time Jane looked back at him, every time he thought of her hands trembling when she untied him. He was utterly incapable of contemplating anything that had happened in that cell before Jane came in; his mind just blanked out. 

It was coming above decks that did it. The Battleship Condescension was anchored somewhere in the Furthest Ring, so the only light was coming from the fenestrated plane where Roxy and Jake were waiting. Roxy hadn't opened the portal yet, in case anyone was following them.

"Perfect," Roxy said upon seeing them, and she shattered the window. As she did, Dirk looked at Jake, whose expression was unreadable yet troubled. It didn't actually _matter_ what Jake's face looked like; he could have been crying huge, exaggerated crocodile tears and Dirk would have reacted the exact same way. As it was, Dirk saw the blank expression on Jake's face and that was what set him off. He was livid, suddenly, at himself for getting captured in the first place, at Smith, at Jane for killing him with her stupid Betty Crocker fork before Dirk could get a hold of him. As mood swings went it was mercifully brief, but it left him shaken and wanting to get the hell out of there more than ever.

"Dirk?" asked Roxy. "What are you waiting for?"

Jake gave him a weak grin. "All right? You first."

Dirk nodded and jumped through the broken window.

**== >**

Dirk's dream self was dead; supposedly the Batterwitch herself had killed him just as the other Dirk (the only Dirk, now) had been captured. Dirk had suspected as much while his mind was occupied with other things, and he knew for certain once they emerged from the void and landed back on Derse's moon. It was strange after so long having the two waking consciousnesses, and he suspected that this was causing the strange emptiness in his chest even more than what Smith had done to them.

They had to spend a few days on Derse and it was a total clusterfuck, of course. Jake was quiet and awkward, Dirk nearly bit everyone's head off, even those of the poor chess guys who had been Jane's back-up and had to be transportalized off the battleship, and Roxy was naturally curious and unfortunately utterly clueless about what had happened. She kept bothering Jake so much, insisting to know if he was all right, if he had been injured or what, that Dirk had a word with Jane, who then had a word with Roxy, who then became awkward and embarrassed and had a word with almost no one else for the rest of the brief time they spent on Derse. It made Dirk curse Smith again for turning the openness and honesty of their friendship into a game of fucking Telephone. Not that Dirk had ever been that great with openness and honesty. That was the problem, really.

All in all, it looked like it was going to be one of those long, dark nights of the soul, which was too bad because Derse and its moon were pretty much nothing but one long, dark fucking night. It took less than two days for Roxy to get sick of it.

"We're going to my planet," she said abruptly one day. "I just decided. We need a fucking vacation from this epic quest."

"Oh joy," said Dirk. "A free seven days and nights on the vodka planet. Is there a cruise included in this vacation package? I'm guessing it's an open bar, you don't even have to say anything."

He was only grousing to have something to say, or to avoid thinking, or maybe just to see her wince, which she didn't. In the end, nobody else complained about going to Roxy's planet, which was called, fittingly, the Land of Dust and Repose. It was a dry, desert planet, but the desert had numerous flowering natural springs. When they arrived Skaia was setting across the horizon, like a clear blue flash on the skyline.

Going there had been a good idea, even Dirk was willing to admit. The four of them fell asleep under the shade of the oasis' trees almost instantly and had no dreams.

**== >**

The waters of the spring were clear and distressingly deep, so you had to be careful when you swam in them. Also, Roxy warned them, the water was not quite potable, but supposedly perfectly safe to swim in.

"It's like seawater," she told them. "Except not really salty-tasting. I tried a little bit of it once, it's really weird. It kind of tastes like..."

"Vodka," Dirk finished for her.

"Goddammit, Dirk, it's not vodka. It's not alcoholic, it's...I can't describe it. Try swimming in it, tell me what you think."

Swimming in strange liquids on an alien planet seemed kind of like a stupid idea, but Roxy's planet was an oven during the day so Dirk decided to try it during their second day of vacation. When he came back from changing into his trunks, Roxy and Jane were nowhere in sight and had probably already left for the day, he supposed. Jake was at the edge of the spring by himself, washing his bare feet in the water. He looked up when Dirk emerged from the underbrush, then quickly looked back down at his submerged feet.

"Hey," said Dirk. Jake nodded at his feet, and it just got worse from there. 

The bruises, thought Dirk as he dove headfirst into the water. He could still feel them, of course, on his back and sides, but he had sort of forgotten about them. That was what Jake had been looking at, what had made him twitch in discomfort. 

That had been the theme of the last couple of days between them. When they caught one another's eye, they would look away in embarrassment. Or shame, maybe. Dirk hadn't even thought of that. It was hard to discern someone else's emotions when you had trouble even looking them in the face.

"You coming in?" he called to Jake, who smiled weakly and shook his head. "For what it's worth, it's definitely not vodka."

Jake laughed. "I'm good," he said, waving. Dirk nodded and went back to doing the backstroke, thinking. Maybe the water on Roxy's planet actually was some sort of alcoholic super-beverage, or was imbued with magical powers of clarity, because suddenly he was swimming towards Jake and pulling himself up onto the grass next to him.

"Hey, watch it," said Jake as Dirk splashed him.

"Sorry. I just...we can't do this anymore."

"Is something wrong with the water?"

"No, not the spring. We can't keep tiptoeing around each other. It would just be letting that asshole win."

He could look at Jake's eyes now; they were filling with panic. "I don't--"

"He's dead, Jake."

"What?"

"Smith. He's dead. Jane killed him."

There was a pause before Jake said, "Are you sure, or..."

"I'm pretty sure. I mean, I didn't see the body, but I don't think any of the other lackeys were supposed to be around, it was him who was supposed to be our warden or something. And a piss-poor job he did, too. He's lucky Jane got to him before the batterwitch did."

Jake seemed uninterested in speculating much about this, so Dirk decided to shut up for once in his life and waited for Jake to speak. "She...Jane, I mean, she's ...I don't want her to know what he did. Um." Jake trailed off. 

Dirk nodded slowly. "Yeah. Well, she does know what happened, sort of. From what she saw when she found me."

Jake looked sick. "Oh Christ on a cracker. Dirk..."

"I told her she could tell Roxy a little bit, just so Roxy would know not to ask. You don't have to worry. They're not going to talk about it if you don't want to. Even Roxy wouldn't bring it up at her most shitfaced. Come on, dude, think about it."

"I know, I know. It's just..." He drew his dripping feet out of the water and rested his head against his knees. "It's my fault and...fuck. I'm so sorry, Dirk."

"You have literally nothing you could possibly need to apologize for."

"No, I do. He came in and he said he would kill you if I didn't do exactly as he said, and I _believed_ him and just did it because I'm a fucking _idiot_ ,--"

"No. That's what I mean. If anyone has to apologize it's...." _Me_ , he was about to say, then thought better of it. "No. No, fuck that. It's not your fault and it's not my fault. This whole thing is on that asshole, and the only thing that we should be sorry about is that Jane killed him before he could live a long, horrible life knowing what a complete and utter scumbag he was. All right?"

Jake hadn't lifted up his head, but he nodded slowly. 

"And look, have you noticed that neither of us have had to clarify what he actually _did_? That's because he did the same exact thing to both us, and he would have done it no matter what we did, I think." He paused before going on. "And, you know, I spent a long time thinking that...I needed to protect you, or teach you, or make you stronger, but sometimes...shit, Jake, sometimes the situation is just so shitty that there's not a whole lot you can do, and if I was smarter or stronger maybe I would have seen that sooner."

Jake was finally looking at him, at least, but the look was a strange one. "He beat you, though. He hurt you a lot more than he hurt me."

Dirk shook his head. "That's not the point. Please, Jake. It's just...it has nothing to do with being strong, all right? For once. We're both alive, OK? That's the important part."

Jake nodded slowly, then finally spoke once more. "I'm sorry that...I've been avoiding you, I guess."

"Dude, I keep telling you, there's nothing to be sorry for."

"It's just, you were so angry and I was so scared of...I don't know what, and--"

"Goddammit, Jake." His glasses suddenly were entirely insufficient to mask all the feelings up in this jam, and to hide the fact that he was sort of crying, so all in all he decided that cutting his losses and just getting the inevitable hug over with was his best choice.

"You're just...you're so _weird_ ," said Jake, wrapping his arms around Dirk. "And you're my best friend, and--"

"Oh for god's sake, Jake--"

"No, irony can go shove it. Fuck being cool, I'm serious."

"I know." Without thinking about it, he reached up and stroked the back of Jake's head. "It's cool. It's all right."

He was very conscious of the still-tender bruises on his torso as Jake held him tightly, and how differently this hug was going from how he had thought it would. He was very conscious, too, of how wet he still was, and how Jake's hand was stroking his bare back. Dirk felt his own hand move almost of its own accord and he was cupping Jake's face, exchanging a look with him. The fact that they could look each other in the eye again after three days of fear and awkwardness was somehow more extraordinary to Dirk than what Jake did next, which was to lean forward and kiss him.

As kisses went it was pretty safe, pretty boring, but it was the best kiss Dirk had ever experienced, not that there was much competition in that department at the moment. Still, Jake withdrew. "Shit," he said with his cheek against Dirk's.

"It's not shit," Dirk assured him. "It's fine."

"I hope I haven't ruined the sacred rite of our platonic bro hug."

Dirk stared at him.

"I'm kidding! I know it's not platonic once you add tongue."

"Oh my god, shut up."

The second kiss was a lot better, and the third, fourth, and fifth ones showed marked improvements as well. It was cool. It was all pretty cool. Or at least it was, until Jake broke away from number seven to suggest they go swimming. He took off his t-shirt, which was fine with Dirk, and ejected a large inflatable pool toy from his sylladex, which was not fine with Dirk.

"What the hell, English."

"Roxy left it for me. In case we wanted to swim while they were gone. It's a...floaty thing, I guess." The floaty thing was shaped like a giant rubber duckie and could easily hold two people. "I can't believe she carries this around with her all the time."

"Roxy is, if nothing else, always prepared for a party," said Dirk, putting his glasses back on and pushing the duck into the water. "And to think, I advised her against employing that inflatable duckkind strife specibus. I don't know what the fuck this thing is but I want to make out on it right now."

This was easier said than done, but finally Dirk was able to pull himself up on the ridiculous inflatable duck without sending the whole thing flipping over.

All in all, it was a ridiculous place to have the first real makeout of your life; precarious, hard to sit on, and utterly dumb-looking to boot.

"God, who wanted to do this again?" he asked as he slowly pulled himself up alongside Jake. "What an awful idea. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, st--"

Jake didn't wait for Dirk to get to the end of this point before kissing him. His lips were warm from the sunlight (the Skaialight, in fact) and tasted indefinably like the mineral tang of the spring's waters.

Dirk hated to admit it, but Lalonde had been absolutely right about the vodka planet. His calm wasn't even disturbed when Jake flipped the ducky accidentally just as Dirk got him off. His calm, extraordinarily, continued all the time they floated together and watched Skaia sink beneath the horizon once again.


End file.
